


Bright Copper Kettles and Warm Woolen Mittens

by frogy



Category: Troubleshooters Inc. - Suzanne Brockmann
Genre: M/M, Married Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogy/pseuds/frogy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jules is Robin's favorite thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright Copper Kettles and Warm Woolen Mittens

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from 'My Favorite Things,' but this was almost called 'Sweaterpaws Married Sex,' because that's what it is.
> 
> This is not even a little bit beta'd.
> 
> I'm going to make a Troubleshooters fandom happen, even if I have to drag everyone else in kicking and screaming.

It's dark when Robin wakes up, but in February in Boston, that could make it anywhere between 5pm and tomorrow morning. He's been filming outdoor night scenes this week, which on top of completely throwing off his sleep schedule are absolutely freezing. The cold and the snow which were charming when they are part of a white Christmas are just cold and wet now. If Jules were with him, Robin would seriously consider never getting out of bed again. But Jules isn't there. This requires fixing. Robin sticks his arm out, reaching for whatever clothes he can grab from under the blankets. Being too tired (and honestly, too messy even when he's not) to put things away pays off when it turns out he can reach sweatpants and a hoodie without getting up. Robin fumbles the clothes on under the covers, pulling the hood up over his head, before getting up.

Robin pads out of their bedroom and down the stairs. He sticks his head in the office, but no Jules, and then he heads into the living room. Jackpot. Jules is laid out the wrong way on the couch, sitting with his back up against the armrest, legs along the length of it. Jules hasn't changed since getting home from work, but he's lost his shoes, jacket and tie. His shirt's untucked, and his sleeves are rolled up. The look is really working for Robin. (All of Jules's looks work for Robin.)

"Hey," Robin says, alerting Jules to his presence.

Jules looks up from the paperwork he's reading and tips his head back to look at Robin. "Morning sleepyhead."

"You were supposed to join me in bed," Robin tells him, taking matters into his own hand and joining Jules on the couch instead. Jules moves his arms out of the way, as Robin climbs on, lying down on top of Jules and worming his arms between the couch and Jules's back. Once Robin has completed his limpet impersonation, Jules settles his hands, clenched papers and all on Robin's back.

"You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you," Jules says. Sometimes Jules is too nice for Robin's own good.

"Well, I'm up now," Robin says. That's debatable, with the way he's sprawled on Jules, his head resting on Jules's shoulder, eyes closed. He's awake enough to tilt his head up until his lips find Jules's neck, pressing dry kisses up the skin there, Jules's evening stubble prickling against Robin's lips. "You don't need to get that done now, do you?" Robin asks.

"No, it's not urgent," Jules says, abandoning his work to the coffee table. 

"Good," Robin says. His next kisses are wet, open mouth and tongue dragging along stubble. Pressed together like this, Robin can feel every reaction to his action. Jules tenses when he sucks, and Jules's fists clench at the fabric of his hoodie at the small of Robin's back when Robin bites. 

Robin takes his time, exploring the minute responses he can coax from Jules's body with just his mouth on Jules's neck, until his lips tingle from it. Jules's grasping hands have rucked up Robin's hoodie and now Jules slips his hands under the hem, finding the smooth skin of Robin's back. Robin lets out a shuddering breath, setting off a chain reaction, his exhale blowing hot against the wet skin and Jules shivers up against him.

Robin moves at that, having waited too long already to find Jules's lips, lifting his head so they can kiss. Robin thinks his favorite thing about Jules is the way Jules kisses him. Robin's favorite thing about Jules is whatever Jules is doing any time they are together. When they're walking a red carpet, it's Jules's hand, possessive on the small of his back. When they're enjoying the shower in their master bath, it's the gentle way Jules runs his fingers through Robin's wet hair whether Robin's on his knees or just washing his hair. 

Right now it's the kissing, slow and deep and perfect. Robin shifts one of his hands up on to Jules's shoulder to hold himself up better. Almost without notice, they've started rocking their hips together. There's no urgency to it, just a perfect balance of steady pleasure, making out on their couch. Robin could do this forever. 

Or, he could, until Jules slips one of the hands running over Robin's back under the waistband of his sweatpants. And Jules discovers that Robin isn't wearing anything under them. Jules pulls his mouth away from the kiss. "Oh, I like this," Jules says, lips tickling at Robin's ear. 

Robin uh-huh's his agreement punctuated with a thrust of his hips. It's not lazy making out anymore. Both of Jules's hands are grabbing at Robin's ass, teasing as Jules runs his fingers along the inside of his thighs, absolutely maddening as Jules runs one hand up the crease of Robin's ass, stopping to rub one dry finger against his hole. Right now, that one finger is Robin's favorite thing about Jules, even though Jules is keeping his movements slow and steady and not enough, no matter how much Robin pushes back against Jules hands or grinds forward against Jules's hips. "Jules, come on."

"What," Jules says, between kisses, "you want more?"

"Yes," Robin groans, frustrated as he tries again to unsuccessfully to push back on Jules's hand.

Jules moves his hands, and that's the exact opposite of what Robin wanted, except Jules isn't stopping. He's tugging down Robin's sweatpants, leaving them mid-thigh. "All you had to do was ask," Jules says, rolling Robin off of him, to the back of the couch. Their couch was picked with the requirement that two grown men could fit lying down on it. They'd have to be pressed together from head to toe, but why would either of them want to be anywhere else. 

Except Jules keeps moving, kneeling up over Robin so that he can get his own pants down too. "Better?" Jules asks, moving so that they're pressed together again, skin against skin. He doesn't wait for an answer before spitting into his hand, and reaching between them to grab both their cocks. 

"Much," Robin says, craning his neck to capture Jules's lips again. This is Robin's favorite thing, how easy it is between them. They know each other's bodies, how to move together, what they each like best. Robin knows from the way Jules is moving his hand, twisting on the upstroke, and biting at Robin's lower lip that he wants Robin to come first. 

So Robin doesn't hold back, pushing up into Jules's fist in time with his movements, and let's himself fall, shivery with pleasure, coming. Jules is there to catch him, working him through it. 

Robin closes his eyes for what's meant to be just a blink, as he catches his breath. But he forgets that in the midst of overwhelming warm, fuzzy contentment. He could go back to sleep with Jules right here. And that's right, Jules, who is still jerking off above him. Robin opens his eyes, and makes a move to lend a hand.

"I've got it," Jules says, grunting.

"You sure?" Robin asks, "Let me do something."

"Just," Jules says, and pauses like he's trying to think, which is the last thing he should be doing now. His hand has slowed down on his cock, and Robin wants to take over, but he also wants to know what Jules is going to say.

"What? Come on, tell me." Robin is curious now.

"Sit there and look pretty," Jules says. He's flushed anyway, but Jules turns even redder at that, and he's biting his bottom lip like he can't believe he just said that.

"Oh yeah," Robin says. "I can do that." He shifts a bit on the couch, so he's in less of a sleepy lump and more of an elegant sprawl. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the matted, sweaty bangs back up into some semblance of disheveled. And he smiles, looking back up into Jules eyes. "Is this what you want?" Posing is easy.

"God, you are so hot," Jules says, hand moving again. Robin smirks, he's been told that before, but it's never been this good. "So hot," Jules repeats, "and you're all mine." Jules's words are rougher, choppier, broken by his gasping breath. And yeah, Robin is all Jules's. He wants to reach up, close the gap and kiss Jules. It would barely be any distance to cross, but Jules wants to look. So Robin stays where he is. It's no hardship, gazing up into Jules's brown eyes.

Until Jules blinks and looks down. And Robin feels it before he realizes what Jules is looking at, because Jules is coming on Robin, on those V muscles on his stomach, over his dick, and finally on the top of his thighs.

Jules has enough presence of mind not to collapse on top of Robin, instead squishing in next to him on the couch. Robin gives Jules a moment to catch his breath. Then he pokes him in the side. Jules blinks at him. "What?"

"I'm sticky."

"Sorry," Jules says. "Tissue?" he offers reaching over to the side table so he could offer up the box to Robin. "Or we can shower?"

Robin takes some tissues. "Maybe later. Did you have dinner yet? What time is it?"

"A little after nine," Jules says, taking a tissue to do his own wiping up. He's a lot less messy than Robin, so he's already putting his pants back on when he says "I picked up Indian on my way home. Do you want me to reheat it for you?"

"Yeah, thanks," Robin says tilting his head up for a quick kiss before Jules leaves the room. "My favorite."


End file.
